Rules of Engagement
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Hermione was engaged to one person, while Draco was engaged to someone else. Together, they were celebrating the engagement of their friend. However, it seemed no one was engaged to whom they really wanted - so it time to break the rules of engagement.
1. Chapter 1

_**All characters belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story - thank you**_

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_**Rules of Engagement**_

_**By**_

_**AnneM**_

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Summary – There were rules for everything: rules for how to act, rules for how to speak, rules of decorum, and even rules of love. However, sometimes rules were made to be broken.

Hermione Granger was engaged to one man, while Draco Malfoy was engaged to another woman. Together, they were celebrating the engagement of their friend, who was engaged to yet someone else. It seemed as if everyone was engaged to someone, but no one was engaged to the person they really wanted to be engaged to; therefore, it was time for someone to break a few of those rules, especially the harsh rules of engagement.

**Chapter 1 – The one where everyone smiles too much**

_Shall I compare thee to a summer day?_

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate._

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

_And summer's lease hath all too short a date._

_Part of Sonnet 18 – Shakespeare_

**_Sunday, May 18_**

Driving down a deserted, bumpy lane toward their destination, Roger Davies said to his fiancée of seven years, "This should be an interesting week, don't you think, ducky?"

Hermione, who was gazing out the side window of the Muggle motorcar, merely said, "Don't call me ducky, Roger. And why do you think this will be an interesting weekend?"

"There's going to be such an array of interesting couples there, that's all," he continued.

"Hmm, interesting," she murmured, repeating the word he had already used twice. But then she perked up and turned in her seat. "Who's going to be here this week? I thought Ron told me that his wedding to Astoria was going to be a small affair. That even his family wasn't coming. He assured me that only Harry and I were invited."

"He lied, except when he said that his family wasn't coming," Roger confirmed. "They don't approve of his bride." They continued their drive, while Roger continued his speech. "She's divorced, she's known to be flighty, and she's somewhat vain."

"He's divorced," she pointed out.

"True, but think of whom she was married to," Roger interrupted, "that's bound to make a difference."

Hermione frowned. "I don't see how that makes a difference. Anyway, how do you ALWAYS seem to know these things? Why don't I ever know anything going on, even with my own friends?"

"I'm the editor of the Daily Prophet, my dear ducky. It's my business to know these things. You're merely a researcher at St. Mungo's. You don't know anything important," he responded with a laugh.

Inwardly she growled. "I know if you call me ducky again I'm going to hex you bald." Sometimes, she hated her fiancé. She decided to stop talking to him, even though he continued to talk to her. Instead, she looked out her window at the passing scenery.

She had been engaged to Roger Davies for seven years – seven long years – and before that she'd dated Anthony Goldstein for four years, Michael Corner for another three, and Ron for a year after graduation, yet still she wasn't married. In all those years Ron had married Susan Bones, had a lovely daughter named Rose, had divorced and was now marrying Astoria Greengrass. Harry had dated Ginny Weasley, become engaged to her, she cheated with someone, they broke up, and now she was supposedly engaged to someone else, although Hermione didn't know to whom.

Neville was married (quite happily), to Hannah Abbott.

George Weasley was married to Angelina Johnson.

Bill Weasley and Fleur were married.

Everyone was married or about to get married, save for her (and now Harry Potter). She looked down at the ring on her finger and wondered 'why?' What was wrong with her? It wasn't Roger who continued to put off their wedding. It wasn't her other boyfriends who weren't interested in marriage. It was always HER.

Even Draco Malfoy pointed that out to her the last time they met. It was at an engagement party for another mutual friend. Hermione remembered that it was warm inside, so she went outside for some air, and while walking the gardens she spied Draco Malfoy leaning against a large statue, looking bored and smug, as usual.

She walked up to him, noticing immediately how very handsome he looked. The bright sun was shining on his light hair, making it glisten and shine. His eyes, which in Hermione's opinion were his best feature, glowed silver, and they seemed to hold a secret or two. She wanted to know what those secrets were, so she decided to join him out on the patio.

As she advanced he seemed to assess her up and down, slowly, from head to toe, with an appraising eye, which she knew caused a blush to form from her hairline to her neckline. She felt the blazing heat bloom, but still she approached him, even as his idle grin turned into a brilliant smirk.

To hide her blush she walked around him, and the entire Greek statue, slowly and surely, acting as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"Hello, little lion," he said lazily when she finally faced him again.

"Why are you calling me that, Malfoy?" she asked. She circled the entire sculpture a second time, and then ended up in front of him once more.

"Doesn't a lion circle their prey?" he asked with one eyebrow in the air.

She laughed. "You're not my prey." She held her hands tightly together at the front of her to keep from touching him. "I was merely admiring this fine work of art."

He held out his hands, shrugged, and said, "Thank you. I've been called many things over the years, but a fine piece of art - never. Boring little party, isn't it? I give their wedding two, maybe three years."

Hermione made a funny face and said, "Actually, I believe Penelope and Michael are in love. I think they'll be very happy. And I was calling this Greek bust the fine piece of art, not you." She leaned around him, a bit closer, to peer at it, her breath catching slightly. The male nude was taller than Draco Malfoy, with a bit less clothing. On the bottom of the statue was a phrase written in Latin. Hermione peered at the writing, but before she read it, she asked, "Don't you believe in true love, Malfoy?"

He barked a loud laugh. "True love? No. Never." He placed a hand on her back, on the pretense of steadying her, and said, "And neither do you, little lion. If you did, you'd be married by now. Do you know you're about the only one of our classmates not yet married?" He moved to the side to give her more room.

She remained bent at the waist, her hair hanging like a curtain, long and wavy in front of her. "You're not married, and neither are Harry or Ron," she began, turning her head to look up at him.

"Divorced, stupid, divorced," he answered, ticking off on his fingers. He leaned down next to her, close enough that his cheek was almost next to hers.

"Go on, you," she laughed. She couldn't help it. He was smiling as he said it, so she laughed. "And if its Harry's problem that he's stupid, what's mine? Am I stupid?"

"You know you're not. I haven't gotten you figured out yet, but I will," he promised.

Each word spoken next to her cheek felt like a small, butterfly kiss. She almost melted like a puddle at the foot of the statue. They were both still bent over, supposedly leaning over to read the inscription at the base of the statue, but in reality they were staring in each others eyes. Hermione said, "You've not remarried, are you stupid?"

He expelled a small laugh, and blinked his eyes; each movement seemed as if they happened in slow motion. "You know it's not that we're stupid. Perhaps we're smarter than all of them, staying away from marriage." Changing the subject, he asked, "Why are we leaning over as such?"

"To read what's written on the bottom of this statue," she stated, her finger pointing toward the inscribed words on the plaque at the base of the sculpture.

"Latin?" he teased, standing back up to his full height. He placed one hand on her back again (allegedly for purchase), but he kept it there as he said, "You speak Latin? My, but you're so very smart. Tell me what it says, Granger. Something about love, I'm sure."

Hermione straightened beside him, smiled, and said, "I wouldn't know. Don't read a word of Latin, myself."

He dropped his hand from her back, walked away from her to some extent to lean against a fountain's ledge. "I do. Shall I tell you what it said?"

"If you must, Malfoy." Hermione walked around the statue again, her hand going up to the smooth marble, as Draco started to speak.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date."

From the other side of the statue, Hermione stared at Draco, lounging on the side of the fountain. "That's from a Shakespeare sonnet, isn't it? Are you sure that's what it says? I think you're lying, because you spoke more words than were on the statue."

"Would I ever tell a lie, lion?" he asked sincerely, hands to his heart.

Hermione smiled and then laughed.

"Which brings us back to my first question … true love? Your feelings on it, Granger?"

Hermione walked closer to the fountain, realizing for the first time that Draco Malfoy had a seductive voice. One which would make a woman follow him anywhere. Then she realized that SHE was following him. That was interesting.

"I think that's a fascinating question, Malfoy," she found herself saying, instead of answering how she really felt. She turned away from him, mainly because she wanted to prove to herself that she could resist following him if she wanted, and picked a white rose from a bush nearby. In the process, she pricked her finger.

"Ouch," she said softly, bringing her finger to her chest. A small drop of blood pooled on the tip.

Draco stood before her – how did he get there so fast – a silk handkerchief in his hand. Taking her hand in his, he pulled on her injured finger, bringing it close to his chest. It was almost as if time stopped. She was able to examine each and every action and moment and expression and emotion as it happened.

His breath fanned her hair. His hands were somewhat rough, his fingers long, his skin slightly darker than hers. He was gentle, and he called her 'careless' and asked her 'why did she do something like that'. He laughed and said, "Not so brave now, aye little lion?"

When he wrapped the piece of white silk around her finger, he pulled her closer to his chest, and her breast touched his arm, and whether he was aware of it or not, Hermione was aware of it. His shoulder and head blocked the bright sun from her view and she was able to look up into his face if she angled her head just right. That was when she took the moment to notice something … when had Draco Malfoy become so completely, utterly, devastatingly handsome?

His eyes went from her finger to her gaze and he smiled at her. She felt lost and confused and she swayed. He made a silly joke about 'blood' and 'fainting', but Hermione didn't hear the rest of it.

Her throat felt tight, her limbs like lead, but even so, she willed her body to turn from his, then she pulled her finger from his hand and walked away from him without a single word, not even 'goodbye'. She marched back into the house, told Roger she had a headache and they left the party.

With Roger still prattling on beside her in the car, she continued to daydream about a certain someone with silver eyes and blond hair (a recurring daydream, for some insane reason) when Roger announced, "What a lovely house."

Hermione leaned down to peer out the window. They had arrived at their destination, and to call this massive, rose-coloured stone mansion 'a house' was a minor understatement, but then again, Roger always tended to understate the obvious. With a sigh, she opened her door when the car stopped. "Yes, lovely, lovely."

Roger instructed a house-elf toward their luggage and threw another one his keys and said, "It's hard to believe and highly unfair that someone like Ron Weasley is marrying into this sort of money, but there you go."

"That's unkind, Roger," Hermione said with a frown. "Ronald is marrying Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy because he loves her very much."

Roger snorted. "She was a bit young for me to remember her much, and it wasn't as if we were in the same house," he expressed, his hand going to her back as they entered the massive foyer behind one of the house elves, "but everyone knows her family's wealth could rival that of Draco Malfoy's, plus she got a nice settlement from Malfoy when they divorced. And speaking of Malfoy, he's coming this week, seeing how he and Astoria were once married."

Hermione stiffened at the mention of Malfoy's name. She always did. Then she thought about the last time she'd seen Draco Malfoy, and now he was going to be at her best friend's wedding. Right. How embarrassing!

She was quickly becoming annoyed with Roger. Annoyance was a familiar emotion where her fiancé was concerned, unfortunately. Sometimes she felt as if she was only using him as a means to an end, but she quickly pushed that thought away, walked away from him and asked the elf that escorted them in the house, "Has Harry Potter arrived yet?"

"Only moments before you, miss," the small elf replied. "He's in his room upstairs. I'll inform him that you would like to see him. Would you like to go upstairs?"

"I think I need a drink first," Roger replied. "But we can go upstairs, if you'd like."

"We'll go in the parlor and wait for him," Hermione answered for the two of them and the decision was made.

Roger and Hermione followed the elf into a huge parlor while another elf took their luggage up a formal staircase. Roger plopped down in a chair near a large set of windows, pulled back a velvet curtain and said, "I'm shocked Potter would show himself here this weekend."

Hermione frowned. "First you make disparaging remarks about Ron, now I suppose you have something bad to say about Harry." She sat on the arm of his chair. "And how do you know Malfoy's coming? Just because he was once married to Astoria doesn't mean he would come to her wedding to Ron. In fact, I would think that would mean he WOULDN'T come."

"That shows how much you know," Roger said, winking at her.

Hermione felt like sticking her wand in his eye, merely because of the phrase, '_that shows how much you know_'… well, and because he was being condescending, which he knew she hated. "And I'm not saying anything against Potter," he continued. "It's only, Ginny and he are no longer together, and I would think it would be uncomfortable for him to be here with her here, since she's the only member of Ron's family that's coming."

Hermione turned on the arm of the chair and held out her hand, motioning that he should continue. "And Malfoy? How do you know he's coming?"

Roger pulled her down to his lap, hugging her with his arms around her waist. "He's engaged to Ginny Weasley now," he explained. "Don't you keep up with any of the gossip, Hermione?" He kissed her cheek and pushed her off his lap.

She stood, mouth open, shocked. "Draco Malfoy is engaged to Ginny Weasley? When? How? Why? Are you sure?"

"Yes," a man behind her said. "He's sure."

Hermione turned quickly to see Harry walking toward her from the doorway of the massive room. He smiled at her, held out his arms, and said, "It's good to see you, sweetheart."

She rushed to his arms. "Harry," she responded. With her head on his chest, her hands around his waist, she said softly, "I can hardly believe it. When did that happen?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron told me about it when he invited me to the wedding. He wasn't even going to invite Ginny, but Astoria insisted Malfoy come, because she doesn't have any family any longer, except for Malfoy and their son, and since Ginny's engaged to Malfoy …." His voice dropped away.

"I'm so sorry," she insisted. "Still, it's odd that Astoria would want her ex-husband here."

"Why is that odd? Ron's ex-wife is coming," Roger supplied, moving over toward the fireplace to the sideboard to pour a drink of the alcohol persuasion.

"How do you know all of this?" Hermione asked a pit peeved.

"I make it my business to know these things," Roger said. "I always thought Susan Bones was too good for Ron, excuse me for saying so, but I guess when you threw him over after school, refusing to marry him and all, he found the next best thing. She was smart, pretty, and serious. In other words, too good for him, just as you were too good for him."

"Roger Davies!" Hermione said, stomping her foot on the floor. "Stop saying bad things about my friends!"

He glared at her, flummoxed, and planted his arse back in his chair. "Sorry, ducky, I thought I was saying something good about you this time! And all of this information is just the newspaper man in me. I have to tell the truth."

Harry laughed. "Ducky?"

Hermione turned to Harry. "Don't repeat that name, Harry Potter," and turning to Roger she warned, "Nor you, Roger Davies!" She turned back to Harry to explain. "I made the mistake of telling Roger that the last time I saw Malfoy he called me 'lion', and Roger asked if I liked having a pet name, and I said it was alright, and ever since he's been calling me 'ducky' for some insane reason!"

Harry couldn't contain his laughter, so she quickly changed the subject by asking, "Do you think our god-daughter will come with Susan to see her Ron remarry?"

"I don't know." Harry took Hermione hand and led her to one of the sofas near the fireplace. "Rose hasn't taken to Astoria very well, from what I hear."

"Ron told me that she considers her new _stepbrother-to be_ her nemesis at school," Hermione informed Harry with a grin.

"Sounds like you and Malfoy," Harry agreed. "He and I were enemies, but he was more like your nemesis."

"Malfoy wasn't my nemesis. That would mean he was my archenemy, and I don't think he was that important in my life." She laughed. "We were merely adversaries," Hermione decided.

"No," Draco Malfoy corrected as he came in the room. Hermione and Harry turned from their place on the couch and watched him as he entered. "Don't tell falsehoods, you brave, little lion. We weren't adversaries. We were archenemies, and you know it."

Hermione sucked in a breath when Draco Malfoy walked into the great room, silver eyes and all. Suddenly, it shrank in size, merely from his presence. Behind him stood a boy of about fifteen, who looked exactly as Draco Malfoy looked at that age. Draco introduced the young man to everyone as his son, Scorpius. Walking in behind them was a woman with long red hair. She needed no introduction, because everyone knew it was Harry Potter's ex-love, Ginny Weasley.

Ginny smiled at everyone, and then flitted around the room, making small talk first with Roger, then with Ron and Astoria, who had just joined the group. However, she pointedly ignored both Hermione and Harry, who had moved from the sofa to stand next to the patio doors. Hermione wrapped her arm through Harry's arm and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Harry. Will this week be horribly painful for you?"

Harry started to say something, when a woman walked into the room, taking up all the air with her apparent charisma and charm. "Am I terribly late?" she asked, smiling brightly. Her long blond hair shined like silk, her eyes were bright, her smile brighter … she stood in the doorway, waiting for someone to either announce her to the room, or escort her somewhere.

"Pansy?" Astoria asked, walking up to the woman. "What are you doing here? Not to be rude, but who invited you here this week to my wedding celebration?" Everyone knew that the two women did not like each other, so the fact that Pansy Parkinson was here in Astoria Greengrass' home was not necessarily a good thing.

Harry walked away from Hermione, brought his hand out toward Pansy, and he said, "I'm sorry, but my invitation did say, Harry Potter and guest. Pansy's my guest for the wedding; so of course, she'll be here all week. Isn't that okay?"

Astoria flipped her long black hair behind her back and said, "But of course. The more the merrier. Welcome to my home, Pansy. It's a pleasure to have you here."

"Charmed," Pansy returned to Astoria with a smile, placing her hand in Harry's. "Charmed, I'm sure."

When Pansy placed her hand in Harry's, the room grew so silent that one would be able to hear a feather drop … if someone had dropped a feather. Hermione noticed that although everyone had plastic smiles on their faces, underneath their demeanors told the truth of their feelings. Roger looked smug. Ginny Weasley looked shocked. Astoria looked livid. Ron looked a bit hurt. Scorpius looked bored. Harry looked happy, and Draco had a true smile on his face, although it turned to a smirk the moment he looked at Hermione.

Well, well, well. Hermione had forgotten that Ron and dated Pansy for six months before Astoria had come on the scene. She seemed to recall that Draco had dated Pansy in school, long before he married Astoria. She wondered if Roger has a history with the woman as well.

Hermione glanced at Harry and wondered what in the world Harry Potter was thinking bringing THIS woman here THIS week, but if there was something she had learned over the last twenty years it was to trust Harry Potter's instincts.

Suddenly, she felt Draco Malfoy at her back. He whispered in her ear, "Get ready, lion. It's going to an interesting week, to be sure."

She turned her head a bit, met his silver eyes and said, "So I've heard, so I've heard."

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_Thanks to Rachel for betaing this for me! You did a fantastic job! And also, thank you to all of you who followed me here from the other site. I appreciate all the support. This should be a fun story I think, without all the stress and sorrow of the last one!_

_Also, I'll have some 'interesting' news (in the words of Roger Davies) -_

_My stories are featured on a brand new site called 'The maple bookshelf'. Address link to my stories is: http : / / the maplebookshelf (dot) com /_

_I'll be updating 'A Silver and Gold Lining' there first, as well as 'Envy'. Also, I'll start a new story just for that site. My newest story, 'Rules of Engagement' will be on both this and that site, but will show up a day earlier on that site. I want to thank them for making me feel welcome, and as it's brand new, (and in fact, I'm the only writer at the moment) I want to see it succeed. They made me feel welcome at a time when I was feeling down, so again, thank you to the submissions people over there!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**All characters belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story. Thank you.**_

**Chapter 2 – The one where everyone pairs off into sets of twos**

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments; love is not love_

_Which alters when alteration finds?_

_On the other hand, bends with the remover to remove._

_O no, it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempest and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth is unknown, although his heights be taken. _

_William Shakespeare_

Surely, Hermione Granger was in some type of altered state – a parallel universe – in which she wasn't participating, but was only observing. Observing closely beside her was one Draco Malfoy. In fact, he had barely left her side since all of the guests had arrived.

The strange motley crew had moved from the main parlor to the outside terrace just beyond the French doors, and they now included Ron's daughter Rose, a beautiful fifteen-year-old redhead, and his ex-wife, a gifted scholar named Susan Bones.

Both of these newcomers looked as uncomfortable and out of place as Hermione felt. Fortunately, the little play they found themselves enacting was now being deftly directed, not by the bride to be, but by Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy was flitting from guest to guest, making certain everyone had drinks in hands, tidbits of juicy morsels on which to snack, and tidbits of juicy conversation in which to gossip. She was standing before everyone as if she were on a stage, regaling the guests with funny anecdotes and stories. When Astoria suggested everyone return to the parlor to await dinner, Pansy smiled widely, threw her arms in the air, made the statement, "Isn't it such a fine evening?" and before everyone knew it, the house elves were preparing the guests to eat 'al fresco'.

Draco sidled up to Hermione's left side. "Isn't she charming, little lion?"

"Who?" Hermione asked in disgust. She knew whom he meant. Every man on the patio, including the prospective groom, was staring at Pansy as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Not one of them could hide their admiration for the vibrant witch.

Draco knocked his arm into hers, causing her to slosh some of her gin and tonic on her hand. "Jealousy does not become you, Granger. On you, it merely causes you to look a bit green around the gills."

Turning toward the insult, she glared at Malfoy and said, "Don't you have a fiancée? Shouldn't you be either bothering her, or lavishing praise upon her? You may take your pick, but leave me alone." She turned away from the entire scene and started walking down a cobbled stone path that led to a lower garden.

Draco fell into step behind her. "And who might my fiancée be, little lion?"

Hermione turned quickly and incredulously said, "The woman you arrived with? Ginny Weasley!"

He barked out a loud laugh, spilling a bit of his own drink this time. "Where did you get the idea that I'm engaged to the youngest Weasley?"

She stared at him for a good five seconds and then said, "Roger…"

"Is an idiot, yes, I agree," he finished her sentence. "No, my dear, sweet Granger, I'm not engaged to the ginger-headed she-weasel. Goodness. That's priceless. No wonder you haven't married Davies yet. He's a moron. Where does he get his information?"

"But, but even Harry, well, even he assumed that you were engaged to her," she sputtered. She placed her glass on the ground and shook her head in shock.

He finished the golden-amber liquid in his glass, placed it on the ground next to hers, and replied, "That's what she wanted Scarboy to think, and I didn't see the harm, because goodness knows I could care less what Potter believes, but I don't want you to think it." He shivered. "The thought of me and her actually gives me the willies. It's almost as sick as the thought of you and her brother together."

"I really was engaged to Ron for a while," Hermione offered, eyes mere slits, her gaze on him intent and full of warning. She waited to see what he would say, although she knew he already knew that.

Instead of responding, he shivered again. She pulled back her hand and punched his shoulder as hard as she could. Placing his right hand on his left shoulder, he rubbed his injury and moaned, "Always so violent. You were always so violent and your gaze is equally alarming. Nevertheless, seriously, I am here to FIND a wife myself this week. That's the only reason I'm here. She-weasel and I decided we would come together and we would both get something out of the deal. She would make Potter jealous for some reason… perhaps she wants him back, she seems insane enough to want such a thing, and I will find a wife."

Again, she regarded him through narrow lashes. "What do you mean… find a wife?"

He walked up to her, threw an arm around her shoulder, and forced her to start walking with him. As they walked, he said, "Well, how shall I explain. A wife is a person with whom a man marries so he can procreate, recreate, and fornicate, but not particularly in that order."

She pushed him away from her. "You swine. I know what a wife is! I meant, why do you need to find one? You already had one once, and that didn't last, so why do it again?"

Leaning against a column of a gazebo, he countered, "Just because you don't view marriage as something favourable doesn't mean we all think its rot. I happened to want to be married again. I married very young the first time, and I'd like to have more children. My son is getting older, and soon he'll be on his own. Plus, my old man said he'd disinherit me if I don't produce at least one or two more." He smiled at her and then winked.

"I don't even know what to make of that statement," she answered, shaking her head in disgust and confusion. She leaned against the opposite post. "And for your information, Mr. 'I Want a Wife', I don't view marriage with disdain. I'm engaged to be married, aren't I?"

He leaned forward, grabbed her hand, looked at her engagement ring, dropped her hand and said, "Are you? You've been engaged for a while, and this isn't exactly your first go at it. I say either you're not serious about it, or you've yet to find the right man."

She opened her mouth to give him a scathing retort, but closed it promptly. Pushing off his post, he leaned close again and said, "I say you're in the running, lion."

She frowned and glared at him again. Placing her hands upon his chest to push him away, she complained, "You're too close, and I'm not running. What does that even mean? Do you mean that I'm running away from marriage?"

He wrinkled his nose (which Hermione actually found endearing) and then captured her hands upon his chest with one of his. The smile left his face and he proposed, "Clean out your ears, brave lion. I didn't say you were running away from anything. I said you were IN the running. Yes. You're in the running." Raising his free hand, he brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek lightly, causing the next breath she exhaled to come out disjointed and ragged.

Only a hairsbreadth away, he leaned just a fraction closer still and said in her ear, "In fact, you're my number one choice right now, before Pansy, so chin up, lion."

Then he did something that almost made her knees buckle, and DID make her blush, although she hated the thought of it. He grasped one of her hands that was underneath his on his chest, brought it up to his mouth, and just when she thought he was going to press a kiss on the top, he used HIS fingers to unroll her fingers, and he pressed a kiss to her palm. HER PALM! How interesting. How intoxicating. How erotic. Her Palm? Yes, her palm.

The kiss was unhurried and calculated. His mouth was warm on the inside of her hand. She felt a slight wetness, a single kiss, a breath, and then bereavement when it was done.

While he kissed her palm, he maintained eye contact with her – silver eyes meeting brown eyes – and it was surprisingly passionate. Warmth spread from Hermione's palm to her entire body. It was as if her entire world tilted to another angle. The altered universe righted itself, and the antithesis of what she THOUGHT she wanted and what she suddenly knew she wanted was staring her straight in the face, and it was silver eyes meeting brown and a single little kiss on the palm, thank you very much.

But this was Draco Malfoy!

But she was engaged to someone else!

He lowered her hand, but kept her gaze, so she couldn't help but notice his long lashes, his strong chin, his thick hair, his fine shoulders, and his straight nose.

And this was Draco Malfoy!

And she was engaged to someone else!

And she was 'in the running'!

He dropped her hand completely and without further ado, he walked away, leaving her leaning against the column of the gazebo. He didn't need to speak. His actions spoke louder than words. When she finally had the wherewithal to push away from the column (her legs no longer like jelly), she walked over to where they left their glasses, picked them up, and walked back toward the others, using a different path than he used.

Neither of them noticed Draco's son sitting on a swing in the shadows of the gazebo, having witnessed the entire exchange.

.

Susan Bones sat away from the small crowd on another patio, a book of Shakespeare's sonnets on a small table in front of her. She wasn't sure why she was invited to come here this week. Although she was on good terms with her ex-husband, Ron, she didn't really like the woman he was marrying. She supposed she came for her daughter, Rose. Rose disliked Astoria, and she especially disliked Astoria's son, Scorpius Malfoy.

At least she pretended that she did. Susan rather thought, to paraphrase the Bard of Avon, her daughter '_doth protest too much'_. She thought Rose had a slight 'crush' on the young Malfoy, and the thought that he might soon be her stepbrother was a blow to the young girl's sensibilities. Speaking of which, Susan looked up from her reading to look for her daughter, but instead spied a handsome man with black, unruly hair and green eyes heading her way.

Taking a fortifying breath, and clutching her book of Shakespeare sonnets in her hands, she waited for Harry Potter to approach.

For some reason Harry Potter always unnerved Susan. It was as if every time he stared at her, he was trying to dissect her, figure her out, discover her secrets, when in truth – she was a simple person. She had no secrets. She was honest and straightforward. She knew she wasn't beautiful or alluring to men, but she was smart and intelligent. That was enough for her. She didn't need a man to tell her 'little lies' or call her beautiful, when she knew she wasn't, and she certainly didn't need Harry Potter to scrutinize everything she said and did.

Yet each time they were together, he found the need to compliment her for some reason. It was maddening!

She didn't know why he constantly badgered her and bothered her every time they were together! He probably felt sorry for her – felt as if she couldn't find a man or something – as if she was the type of woman to be defined by a man! She didn't need a man! That was why she divorced Ron! Anyway, Harry Potter could get any woman he wanted, so why was he constantly bothering her? He even brought Pansy Parkinson here this weekend. She was beautiful, entertaining, and outgoing… everything that Susan was not.

In fact, she didn't even like the man.

Harry watched Susan Bones as she sat by herself around a small wrought-iron table on a smaller patio near the front of the house. She had a book in front of her and she was writing something on a piece of parchment. He wondered why she was here this week. Why had Ron invited her? He started toward her, all the while realizing what an alarmingly beautiful woman she really was, yet she didn't realize it, or rather, she didn't care.

She always wore her hair either back in a plait or on top of her head. Today she wore it down around her shoulders. It looked nice that way. She wore glasses (which Harry didn't mind, since so did he), but according to Ron, she only needed them for reading, yet she wore them all the time, usually on top of her head, instead of on her nose where they belonged. She didn't dress to impress. Today she was wearing a plain white sundress and Harry imagined removing it slowly so he could peek at the woman underneath.

She was the quintessential Ravenclaw: smart, bookish, intellectual, unmoving in her beliefs. She was similar to Hermione in many ways, but unlike Hermione (whom Harry loved like a sister), Susan Bones seemed delicate and refined and too feminine for someone like Harry. In other words, she was too GOOD for someone like Harry Potter.

She looked up at him, a blush staining her cheek, and he almost ached for her deep in his heart…deep in his soul. Her disinterest and dislike of him was always evident, and it always made him feel like a fool, yet when Ron mentioned that she was coming here this week, Harry had to come as well, even though he wanted to avoid Ginny.

"Hello, Susan. I've not seen you for so long. You look wonderful," Harry said with a sincerity that always made Susan's heart skip a beat, as much as it made her guarded and confused. "Your dress is pretty."

Susan frowned. She wasn't sure why. She looked down at her plain, white dress and she knew it wasn't as fancy or ornate as the dresses the other women were wearing, so why did he feel the need to mention it?

She looked back up at him, nodded, and merely said, "Harry." Swallowing, she placed her book on the chair beside her chair when she realized Harry was about to sit next to her, forcing him to move slightly further away on to the next chair. "I hear congratulations are in order. As soon as I arrived, Ron informed me that you were engaged to Pansy Parkinson. I have to admit that I was a bit shocked." She looked down at her hands in her lap. Good. They weren't shaking.

"Were you now?" Harry looked around the small patio. It was far enough away from the others that they couldn't hear the intimate conversation he shared with her, but HE could hear the mirth and laughter of the others as they sat around eating, drinking, and acting merry at the large table down below.

Susan didn't respond. Did he think she would? How stupid of him if he did. Instead, she picked up her book and started to read.

He took the book right out of her hands and moved deftly from his seat to the seat beside her. He would let her believe he was engaged to Pansy for a while, and then tell her the truth later. "Always so serious," he said quietly, as if he were making a comment – an observation – that was only for his own ears. "Sometimes I think you read more than Hermione does. Why are you up here reading when everyone else is down there enjoying themselves?"

"Ron asked me to find some suitable Shakespeare quotes for his vows. The theme of the wedding is _'A Midsummer Night's Dream'_ you know."

Harry laughed, handed the book back to her, and took the time to scoot the chair even closer. Crossing his feet at the ankles, he said, "Oh yes, I know. How stupid."

She gasped. "You think Shakespeare is stupid?" She turned in her chair and stared at him intently, her eyes round and her mouth open in shock.

He turned to her, realizing his blunder. She was a professor of Shakespeare at the premier Wizarding College in England. "That's not what I meant. I meant it was stupid for them to have a theme at this farce of a wedding. Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps picking one of Shakespeare's farces, his comedies, would be more appropriate, don't you think?"

Sticking her nose back in the book she said, "I have no opinion on the matter. Ron and Astoria can do whatever they'd like. It's their wedding. Now, if you'll excuse me." Picking up a quill, she leaned over somewhat and started to transcribe a passage on a small piece of parchment that lay on the table to her left.

Harry looked at her and smiled. Since she was looking away from him, he could study her at his leisure. He always thought Susan was pretty. Her hair was a chestnut brown with reddish-brown highlights. It wasn't as dark as Hermione's hair, and the streaks of red were nowhere as ginger as Ginny's locks – in fact, Susan's auburn highlights only came out in the sunlight. It was very sunny today.

She had green eyes, just like him. They were a sort of amber colour in the middle, and they appeared green on the outside rims. She wore glasses most of the time, like him, but right now, her glasses were sitting on the top of her head. He remembered one time she couldn't find her glasses and he pointed out that they were right there… on top of her shoulder-length, chestnut coloured hair.

And for the life of him, he didn't know why she never liked him. They went to school together, and although she was in Ravenclaw and he was in Gryffindor, for some reason, she never liked him. She fought with them in the DA during the fall of Voldemort, and when Hermione broke it off with Ron, Susan seemed to be a natural replacement. For some reason, Harry resented that in the beginning, so he was naturally a bit cold toward her at first, but he had tried over the last fifteen years to make it up to her, but to no avail.

Harry was even her daughter's godfather. He loved Rose like his own. Goodness, he wanted a houseful of children just like Rose… pretty, smart, sweet. He wouldn't even mind a wife like Susan. Suddenly, he frowned. Where did that thought come from, he wondered? He cleared his throat. "So tell me, Susan, have you had much luck finding an appropriate sonnet for Ron to recite at his wedding?" He leaned closer to look over her shoulder at the book, which she now had opened, his arm next to her arm as it lay on the table.

She stopped writing, dropped the quill on the parchment and sat upright, never imagining that he was THAT close until she felt the breath of each word he spoke against her cheek. Then, she felt the warmth of his body, his shoulder and arm touching hers, his shadow falling over the book on the table. It was as if he was guarding her, and it made her feel lightheaded and protected. She leaned away faintly, feeling off kilter by his closeness. "There are so many," she finally replied.

"You have one marked, I see," he observed, touching the book with his finger, letting it drift over the passage on the page, then drift just the same over the top of her hand as it rested on the opposite page. Did he even know what such an innocent touch did to her? "Is that the one you were transcribing?"

He tipped his head closer still, his larger hand resting on top of her smaller hand on the right side of the book, his shoulder and chest pressing against her body, his other arm going around the back of her chair, even as his cheek practically pressed into her hair. He read the passage she had marked.

"_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments; love is not love_

_Which alters when alteration finds?_

_Or bends with the remover to remove._

_O no, it is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempest and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth is unknown, although his heights be taken."_

Harry moved away, only a bit, his hand still on top of hers, and he said, "I'm not sure I know what it means, but it does mention marriage." He realized that he was practically holding her hand, this sweet, clean, wholesome woman whom he could never have, never possess. Her lips were so close to his he wanted to kiss her.

She stood suddenly, her chair scooting backwards awkwardly, the book falling to the ground. Turning, she said, "I'm sure you don't," and then she ran toward the house and out of sight.

Sighing, he bent down, picked up the book, and placed it back on the table beside the bench and then went back to join the others on the larger patio.

.

Rose Weasley didn't know why she had to come here this week. The fact that her father was marrying an awful woman shouldn't be a cause for celebration, but a cause for mourning! And whoever heard of a weeklong wedding celebration? However, Rose loved her father, and her mother, Susan, came along for support, so Rose agreed to come, even though she was mortally opposed to the idea of her father marrying that woman.

Who was the mother of THAT boy!

Rose Weasley HATED Scorpius Malfoy. He was rude, obnoxious, haughty, and sometimes even mean. To hear Uncle Harry talk, he acted just as his father did in school. Mostly, it irked Rose to think that Scorpius was smart as her. His grades rivaled her own. He was in Slytherin, she was in Ravenclaw, and they were constantly battling each other for top spot in their classes. They were only in their fifth year, but everyone knew that by the time they were in their seventh, they would be named head boy and girl. Just thinking of being named head girl to his head boy caused her blood to boil.

He was good looking, and he knew it, too. Every girl in the school liked him, wanted him, and dreamed about him. It made Rose ill just thinking of it!

IN ADDITION, what was worst of all was that he was soon going to be her stepbrother! Thank goodness, Rose lived mostly with her mother and Scorpius lived mostly with his father. She could only hope that outside of school, during breaks and holidays, they wouldn't have to see other at all.

Rose walked away from the adults, who were acting asinine, juvenile and boring in her opinion, toward the lower gardens that supposedly, according to her father, contained a large gazebo. She would hide there until dinner was ready. Perhaps she would hide there all week.

Hiding from his mother's guests while sitting on a swing in a gazebo, Scorpius Malfoy smiled when he thought of his father and Hermione Granger together. They would make a nice couple. His father had better not mess things up. He should have kissed her lips instead of kissing her palm. Scorpius might have to help things along. He wanted his father to be happy. He only wished he could find someone better for his mother than that buffoon Ron Weasley! They weren't suited! Everyone knew that. Even though he was a pureblood, he came from nothing! His family had no money, no social standing! Sure, he helped save their world… but that wasn't enough to recommend him to marry his mother.

In addition, the biggest impediment of all, at least in Scorpius' opinion, was that he had a daughter named Rose Weasley.

Rose Weasley was the biggest swot Scorpius knew. She was like a thorn in his side that he could never remove. And he tried… seriously; he tried to remove that thorn constantly. He would tease her, bully her, occasionally he even made her cry. Yet, she came back for more. She refused to back down to him.

What peeved Scorpius the most was that the little bint was so effing pretty! She was perhaps the prettiest little swot in the whole freaking school! Her hair was ravishing! It wasn't a bright red, but a deep auburn. Her eyes were bright blue, the colour of the sky on a summer day. She always smelled so good, sweet and clean. She rarely wore makeup, so her beauty was true and real. She was smart – smarter than he was – and he hated that as well.

He hated her. He was going to have to break up his mother's engagement to Rose Weasley's father because he could NOT fathom being Rose Weasley's stepbrother. NO! Not in a million years.

Scorpius stood from his hiding place in the corner of the gazebo to go confront his mother, to set his plan in action, when he came face to face with the very girl he'd been thinking of – Rose Weasley.

Rose blinked. She seemed surprised to find him here. He thought she had a cloak of sadness around her, and he wanted to remove it. Why? Why should he care if Rose Weasley looked sad? Sad and beautiful. She was so beautiful.

Frowning, she started to turn away, but he reached out impulsively and grabbed her hand. Her breath caught in her throat when he grabbed her hand. Pulling back, she tried to remove it, but he held on tight. Long finger holding on to hers, a tingling feeling heated her body more than the warmth of the sun squinting down through the slates of the roof of the gazebo.

Neither said a word nor moved a muscle. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Scorpius realized why his father held Hermione Granger's hand, and with that realization, he shuddered and dropped her hand quickly, then walked away with a steady gait and one goal in mind. Now he knew the real reason he didn't want her for a stepsister! He liked her!

Now what was he going to do?_A/N The new site is very new and the moderators inform me they are still building the site, so be patient with it. I don't know much about it, but I did promise them I would post this first there, and a day later on fanfiction. Supposedly, you still need to put the entire address in, because it's a new site (or so they tell me). so it's http : slash slash the maplebookshelf dot com slash (All run together, of course). They need writers, readers, and anyone interested in adm and moderator jobs (as I'm not.)_

_Thanks to Rachel for doing an awesome job of beta work on this! Thanks for pointing out the inconsistencies and for keeping this from becoming too confusing! Truly, thanks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**All characters belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story. Thank you.**_

**Chapter 3 – The one where everyone is thinking one thing and saying something else**

_When you have bid your servant once adieu, _

_Nor dare I question with my jealous thought,_

_Where you may be or your affairs suppose,_

_But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught,_

_Save where you are how happy you make those._

_So true a fool is love that in your will,_

_Though you do anything, he thinks no ill._

_From Sonnet 57 – Shakespeare_

* * *

"Well that was a perfectly lovely dinner," Hermione said to everyone, a forced smile on her face. Although she was serious in one respect (it was a lovely dinner), the company left a lot to be desired. The atmosphere around the long square table, which sat under an old oak tree, was full of many different emotions… none of them 'lovely'.

All throughout dinner, the conversation was forced and strained; it was apparent that most of the people present were uncomfortable with each other. Even Pansy had lost her verve and flare and had grown mostly quiet and reserved. Folding her napkin on her lap, Hermione leaned over toward Harry, who sat across the table from her, and said, "Didn't you think that was a perfectly lovely meal, Harry?"

"Perfectly lovely," Harry repeated without an ounce of emotion reflected in voice. He turned to look at Susan Bones sitting on his left, next to Ron, who was at the end of the table. She was diligently reading her book of Shakespeare sonnets. Harry went back to looking at his empty plate in front of him.

From Hermione's other side, Draco pulled on her arm, forcing her to slant his way. He asked, "Don't you want to know if I thought it was lovely, little lion?"

Hermione found his gaze direct and challenging. For some reason her heart sped up and her mouth felt dry. All during dinner, she felt highly aware of him sitting by her side. All the little hairs on her arm would stand up at attention like good little soldiers when he would accidentally brush her arm with his while reaching for something across the table.

A couple of times he leaned her way to whisper something in her ear and she would feel a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, which moved down to the base of her spine.

Her breathing felt heavy, her pulse felt off, and her eyes sight dim. What was wrong with her? This was Draco Malfoy and she was engaged to what's his name.

He was still waiting for his answer, so she took a drink of water (otherwise she wouldn't have been able to speak) and she replied, "Not at all. I know you thought it was lovely. You were sitting next to me."

She almost gasped after she said it! She realized her sentence could be construed two ways: arrogant or flirtatious so she backtracked by saying, "What I meant to say is, well, oh bother, you ate well, so you must have enjoyed it."

It was too late. The damage was done, the reel cast, because Draco Malfoy had a gleam in his eye and a half smile on his lips. Inclining even closer, he moved his index finger up and down her arm under the table, causing her to shiver. "You're right. I had a lovely time because I sat next to one of the loveliest women here."

"I say, Malfoy," Roger said from his place at the other end of the table.

Draco looked up lazily and merely said, "Hmmm?"

"We all thought we'd get in a game of Wizard Polo after dinner. I don't know if you've ever played, but it's something Potter thought up, and it's jolly good fun. Are you up for it?"

Moving his gaze toward Hermione he said, "I'm up for something alright," then he turned back toward Davies and said, "Certainly, Davies. You and Potter shall be captains. I believe Astoria has enough brooms here. My son will have the elves collect them. Sounds like a plan."

Ginny and Ron started chatting amongst themselves about the last time they played the game that Harry Potter introduced to them. Ginny turned to Harry and asked, "You'll play, won't you Harry?"

"I don't feel like playing. Sorry."

"But we'll need at least three on each team, and with Malfoy senior, Scorpius, Ron, Roger and me, that's only five. You know no one else will play."

"Why do you assume no one else will play, _Ginevra_?" Pansy asked with a smile that made her look somewhat sinister, using Ginny's full name, which everyone knew Ginny hated.

Ginny relaxed and said, "Well, _Pansy,_ it's rather obvious, isn't it? You're all…" And she stopped.

Now Hermione frowned. She threw her napkin on her plate. "We're all what, Ginny?"

Ginny sighed. "Fine. You're all, AGH! Don't make me say it."

Astoria pushed back from her chair at the end of the table, with a wine glass in her hand. "What my fiancés sister is trying to say is that we're all women, although so is she, so I'm wondering what her point is."

Ginny stood up from the table. "That's not what I'm saying."

Scorpius said, "That sounds like what you're saying to me."

Draco laughed. "Too true, son."

Hermione pinched Draco on the arm. "Stay out it."

Draco pinched Hermione back. "Defend your gender, then, brave lion!"

She pinched his arm again, twisting his skin between her fingers as hard as she could until he yelped, and said, "I don't have to, because that's not what she's saying!" She stood up and every eye turned toward Hermione.

"She's saying that none of the rest of us has the skills on the broom to play, nor do we really want to play. Astoria and Pansy probably haven't been on a broom since Hogwarts. I have been on a broom, I ride rather well, and while this game doesn't require the heights that Quidditch does, I don't want to take the chance, because I hate heights. Rose isn't a proficient flyer yet and Susan would rather read. There. That's what she meant! She wasn't putting down women, for goodness sakes, she is a woman! She's a professional Quidditch player! Would she put down women?"

Draco started to applaud, soon joined by Scorpius who sat on his left side, joint smirks on their faces. No one else joined in, even as Hermione sat back down, chest heaving in righteous indignation for the other woman.

Ron laughed and said, "Sorry, Hermione, but I do think she was implying, or is it inferring, whatever it is, but she meant that none of you women could play because you were women, right sis?"

Ginny frowned even more, sat back down, crossed her arms over her chest and said, "Forget it. I don't want to play now, either."

Hermione leaned closer. "Is that what you meant, Ginny?"

She looked up at Hermione and after a heartbeat said, "Yes, actually, that's what I meant, but it's not like it seems! Susan Bones is too timid to ride a broom. My niece Rose is too clumsy. You're too… oh you know what you are! You're too Hermionish. Pansy might break a fingernail and Astoria is too snobbish. There, that's what I meant." She stood up and finished with, "I'll go get the brooms. Who's with me?"

Suddenly, a man walked toward them from the double doors of the house. He said, "I'll join, if no one cares. I don't know what you're planning to play, but if it involves brooms, count me in."

Ginny's mouth opened wide, she sucked in air, the sunk back in her chair. All eyes and heads turned to watch the man walking toward them. Tall, dark hair, arresting eyes, handsome and muscular, it was Marcus Flint, Ginny's ex-teammate.

Draco rushed from his chair, hand extended, to meet him. "Great to see you, old man. When did you arrive?"

"Just now. Too late for dinner, I see," he responded, shaking Draco's hand, and then walking a few steps more so he was at the corner of the table, next to Hermione, who sat on the side next to Ron, who was at the end.

He looked down at Hermione and asked, "Who are you, lovely?"

Hermione frowned and answered, "Aren't you the rude one?"

"You think I'm rude because I asked who you were? Interesting theory on rudeness." He laughed and looked at the other guests and began to point around the table. He said, "I know that one, that one, don't know you, don't know you, know that one, that one, and the rest." He turned back to Hermione. "But I don't know you, sweetness."

Draco, who was feeling peevish by Flint's apparent flirting and pet names toward his future wife, said, "You know who Hermione Granger is, Flint. Don't be an idiot. And the young pretty ginger is Weasley's daughter, Rose, as you well know, and you were in the same year with Roger Davies, so I know you know him, too."

"Davies…Davies…no, it doesn't ring a bell. And as for beautiful young Rose, of course, I know her. I merely didn't recognize her, as she looks so grown up now. We've met, haven't we, sweetheart?" The strikingly handsome man smiled at the young woman, who was sitting between Scorpius and Astoria, and she smiled in returned.

Now, Scorpius was sharing his father's peevishness. "How do you know Rose?" Scorpius asked.

"Through her mother," Marcus answered, but didn't elaborate.

Standing from his place at the end, Ron cleared his throat to get Marcus' attention. "Excuse me, Flint, but this is a private dinner. Did you need something?"

"Excuse me, Weasley, but I was invited here this weekend." He clapped Ron hard on the back, very hard. "By the way, congratulations on the upcoming nuptials, and best wishes to you, Astoria. I hope this one lasts longer than the last one, for both of you."

He turned toward the little patio behind him, pulled out his wand, and said, "Accio chair." Once a chair was in his hand, he placed it at the corner of the table, not between Hermione and Ron, where he was standing, but at Ron's other side, between Ron and Susan, who was sitting next to Harry.

From the end of the table Astoria asked, "Who invited you, Marcus? This is my wedding, and somehow it's getting out of my control!" She screeched the last part, her hands clutching her cloth napkin as if it was someone's neck.

"Why, my beloved Susan here invited me, isn't that right, darling?" He leaned over, kissed Susan's cheek, and pried one of her hands away from her book so he could hold it in his.

Susan, who had been reading her book throughout most of dinner, and most of the conversation afterwards, hadn't even bothered to look up when Marcus came upon the table. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but look up after he kissed her cheek. At that, she gasped and sat back in her seat, then gasped louder as he proceeded to kiss the back of her hand, repeatedly.

"What?" she asked evidently confused. She looked around the table for help.

"It's alright, love, we don't have to hide any longer, and this is a perfect venue to let everyone know we're dating," Marcus said, placing an arm around Susan's body. She dropped her book and it landed on her lap. She looked at Ron first, who looked as confused as her, then at all the others, ending with Harry, who for some reason looked angry.

Then, she turned to Marcus Flint. "What?" she asked again. "Who are you?"

He laughed. "Isn't she charming? That's why I love her so much. She's always joking around." He looked over at Pansy and winked. No one else may have caught the small wink, but Hermione did.

Hermione closed her eyes to mere slits as she watched Marcus fawn over a dazed and perplexed Susan Bones, turned her gaze to an angry Harry Potter, and then looked at Pansy beside him, who looked absolutely full of glee.

Hermione leaned toward Draco and said, "Something's rotten in Denmark."

"Is that Muggle talk meaning Susan Bones doesn't know Marcus Flint any better than she knows a hippogriff?" Draco whispered in return.

She turned toward him and said, "That's exactly what it means."

"Potter's not happy about all of this either, which begs one to wonder, does he have feelings for the little Shakespeare professor?" Draco asked Hermione as all the others began to rise from the table.

"Perhaps he merely had some foul fowl at dinner?" Hermione offered with a smile.

"So glib," Draco returned, moving his arm to the back of her chair. His thumb moved carelessly on her shoulder, back and forth, lightly. She liked it more than she should.

"Draco," Hermione began, turning more in her chair to face him, "don't you think this is turning into some sort of outlandish farce with a bizarre cast of characters? All these characters are being introduced, and everyone seems to have ulterior motives. It's puzzling and maddening, and I don't like it."

He laughed and stood, taking her hand to help her up from the chair, because the house elves were clearing away the dirty dished. He moved her toward the large empty field near the back garden, where everyone else was walking. Draco made sure they ambled along slowly, so he could talk quietly with her, and so they could be alone. "Do you have to like everything, little lion? Do you have to be in constant control, and solve every puzzle as it presents itself?"

"Well, of course not." She made a sort of strangled noise in the back of her throat and finally said what she really felt. "Fine, the truth is that I DO like to be in control, and to know everything that's going on, and when I don't, I feel off kilter, and that… well, that I hate."

She was frowning, and Draco discovered that a frowning Hermione Granger was something that HE hated. He reached for her hand, pulling her to a stop, so the rest of the guests were beyond a large thicket of trees and out of their eyesight. He said, "Shall I explain the cast of characters and their intended purposes in this play, which will help you feel a bit more in control of the situation?"

Hermione couldn't help but replace her frown with a smile. "Yes, please, if you may, explain away." With her hand still in his, she leaned her back against a large trunk of a tree and blinked several times before repeating, "Go on, what's your explanation?"

"Fine." He dropped her hand, but stood directly in front of her. The early summer evening was growing darker, but he could still see her well enough so that he could make out all of her features, even under the canopy of trees. Staring into her dark chocolate eyes, he reached out and drew his fingertips down her cheek, and then brushed her hair off her shoulder before he began.

"Astoria and Weasley's purpose here are the most clear, but only to them. They are the intended couple. You're here because you're Weasley's best mate and ex-love, as much as that sickens me. Potter's here for the same reason."

He picked up her hand and began to toy with her fingers and she allowed it, wondering the entire time _why _she allowed it. She smiled and asked, "Harry's Weasley's ex-love?"

"That was always the rumour at school," he smirked. "Shall I continue?"

She nodded.

"You brought Davies along thinking you're going to marry him someday, even though you're not, and I know you're opening your mouth right now to protest, but I swear, Granger, if you open your mouth any wider, I'm sticking my tongue in it."

She closed her mouth tightly.

He grinned. Leaning closer to her, he said, "Davies didn't come with you for moral support, as your fiancés, or because your best mate is getting hitched. No, no, no, little brave lion. Roger Davies is here for one reason and one reason only – he wants a nice, big juicy story for his newspaper."

Hermione pulled her fingers from his hand and pushed him away from her. Moving toward another tree she argued, "That's not fair to him or me. We are engaged, and he came to be with me, end of story."

"If you're engaged to him, why are you lagging behind here with me, letting me hold your hand and such?" Draco asked with his back against the tree she abandoned, ankles crossed, and his stance easy and carefree.

"Good question and the answer is… " She stopped talking and ducked her head to her chest. "Oh, Malfoy, you stupid idiotic wanker," she said softly. "You've hit the nail on the head."

He approached her slowly, backing her into the tree behind her. "Please, stop all the Muggle phrases, although I love the dirty talk and the pet names. What do you mean by the phrase - I hit the nail on the head?"

"I don't want to be engaged to Roger any longer," she said even softer, looking down at her chest.

He brought her chin up with his finger so they were looking eye to eye. "Which brings me to the conclusion of my explanation. Potter is here because he's madly in love with Susan Bones, but his bollocks are so shrived that he doesn't have the nerve to tell her. He brought Pansy, to make Susan jealous, poor misguided orphan that he is. That won't work on someone like Susan Bones, and Pansy knows it, so Pansy invited Marcus to come, to act as Susan's date, even though Susan's never met the man and didn't have a clue he was coming. There' the added benefit that him being here will irritate Astoria AND Ginny Weasley, who have both had affairs with the man."

Hermione's eyes grew wide at that. "When? Where? How?"

Draco drew a single finger from her forehead down to her jaw and with a sly smile on his face, he repeated, "How? You're asking me 'how'. Do you wish me to demonstrate?"

With her hands on his chest she said, "I don't really mean 'how' how, but just tell me the particulars, without getting graphic."

His chest was now touching her breasts, sending waves of desire pulsating throughout her body. The sky was growing darker, and Draco was becoming braver, because he cupped her cheek with his hand and nuzzled the other side of her face with his nose before he answered. "Marcus and Ginny slept together when she was with Potter. That's why they broke up, and Astoria slept with him when she was married to me. That's why we divorced."

Hermione pushed at him so she could look at his face. She looked livid. "That horrible man! We should ask him to leave! No, better yet, we'll throw him off the estate! We'll hex him! I'll make him leave! Do you want me to make him leave?"

Draco smiled at her ire on his behalf. Grabbing both her hands in his (to keep her from reaching for her wand) he said, "It's all in the past, Granger. Believe me he did me a favour. It's hard to divorce under Wizarding laws, and infidelity is one of the only ways to get a divorced granted, so it's all right. It was an arranged marriage, and the only good thing that happened during our marriage was my son."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "That's rather sweet of you to say."

He dropped her hands. "Don't ever call me sweet. I have a reputation to uphold."

She laughed and said, "Still, I think he's horrible, and so is Astoria and Ginny."

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" she asked, baffled.

"You're engaged to Davies, yet you just admitted that you don't want to be, hence the reason you're here with me holding hands and flirting. So, I ask you, little lion, what about you?"

"Are you trying to provoke me?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Not at all," he said earnestly. "Let's skip that for a moment and let me tell you the reason everyone else is here. You see, Susan Bones didn't come to find a Shakespeare sonnet to read at the wedding. She could have done that at home and sent it by owl. She came because she has feelings for Potter, too, but is too timid to show it. Therefore, Flint and Pansy will push them together before the week is out."

"For what purpose?" Hermione's hands were back on her hips. "Why should Pansy and Marcus Flint care if Harry Potter and Susan Bones are together or not!"

"Because you care for Potter, am I right? It's important to you," he said, moving closer again, forcing her to step backwards, one more step, then another, until her back was once again pressed against the bark of the tree.

"I want Harry to be happy, yes, and Ron," she answered. "Did you orchestrate all of this?"

"As if I could," he said blandly, although she didn't believe him.

"Okay," she said with a sigh, all sharpness gone from her voice. "That brings us to you and your fake fiancée. Why are you here?"

"She's here because she thinks she wants Potter back, but you and I both know that's not going to happen, but we'll let her discover that on her own." He grinned at her – his smile was enticing – and she knew at once why he was here, but she still asked, "And what about you?"

"I already told you earlier why I was here," he said. "I'm here to get a wife, and you're my first choice."

Her pulse sped up, but only for a moment. "Good to know I'm in the running," she said flippantly. "Although I must take myself out of the race, since I am engaged, and it is a real engagement, I've just decided I DO want to be engaged to Roger. I really do, no matter what you say."

Draco burst into laughter and leaned closer. "I know you, Granger. Your eyes betray the truth of your words. If you married Roger Davies, you would be bored within a week. I bet he's even a bad kisser."

"No he's not," she defended, albeit weakly. "He's a good kisser." The sky was now dark, and Hermione could hear the others playing their game of Wizard's Polo in the field behind them. Still, the sky was a deep hued blue with were only a small spackling of stars spattered above them. For the moment, there was only her and him in the copse of trees. Nothing existed but her, him, and this moment in time.

Draco pressed his body so close that she felt anchored to him. Her nerve endings felt on fire. "If that's true, then you won't mind if I try something, would you?"

"What… what do you want to try?" She swallowed the lump in her throat, shut her eyes briefly, and knew without a doubt that he was going to kiss her even before he closed the last small space between them, pressing his body to hers completely right before he placed his lips upon hers.

Without answering her question, his mouth went to hers. He cupped her jaw with one hand; his other hand went above her head to the rough bark of the tree. Hermione threw her arms around his neck without preamble, lacing her fingers in his hair. He seemed to concentrate all his energy and effort into this one kiss, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. He turned his head slightly, placed the hand that had been on the tree behind her head to cradle it softly against the rough bark, growled low in his throat, and pushed his tongue between her lips.

The kiss was succinct but intense, and he ended the brief encounter with a series of small kisses on top of her now swollen lips. When he stopped kissing her, Hermione placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "I guess my engagement with Roger is over." She shouldered her way by him, and then ran toward the house, instead of running toward the others who were playing in the field.

He idly placed two fingers to his own lips and said, "You are now the only contender, little lion, and I'm going to make you mine."

_A/N - Sorry this took so long to post, but I lost my beta for this. Remember, this story will always be posted at The Maple Bookshelf first (it's been up there for two days already). And if the rumors are true and this site is clearing house of all 'M' rated stories, I may not be able to post here soon anyway._


	4. Chapter 4

**All characters belong to JKRowling**

**Chapter 4 – The one full of incomplete conversations and minor productions**

_Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap?_

_To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,_

_Whilst my poor lips, which should have that harvest reap,_

_At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!_

_Sonnet 128 – William Shakespeare_

_**Hermione and Draco**_ were walking together, sans the other guests, back toward the house slowly after an exciting game of Wizard Polo. The game was finished, the sky was clear, and Hermione was confused. She was about to voice her confusion to him when he grabbed her hand, letting his thumb rest on the pulse of her wrist.

She stopped and tipped her head up toward the indigo night sky while she removed her hand from his grasp. "What are we doing?" She stared back at him and was shocked when she noticed how close he had moved toward her.

Without answering her question, he claimed her hand again and dragged her, running toward the door at the back of the house.

Not one to be 'dragged' anywhere, Hermione pulled her hand from his and moved to a small grove of trees to the side of the path.

Not one to be deterred, Draco made another small movement toward her, feeling fearless. She turned her head to his and in his opinion, the answer to her question was obvious.

"You know what I'm doing. You know what I want." He bent toward her and placed his lips lightly back to hers. Opening her mouth to receive him, an explosion of feelings burst forth; changing everything that she thought and knew. How could the simple touch of his lips on hers turn her world upside down? She leaned closer and placed her hands around his neck…

.

_**Harry Potter**_ ached all over and for what? For nothing, that's what. He tried to show off to Susan Bones during a rousing game of Wizard Polo, but his team lost to Ron's team. She barely looked up at the action from her place on the ground. Instead, she continued to read that effing book of sonnets, and then she went back inside, claiming she was going to bed, before the game was even over!

He went back into the large manor house and went straight upstairs to take a nice, hot shower.

Now he was roaming the hallways downstairs, trying to clear his muddled brain, so he could figure out what he should do next. He only wished Malfoy hadn't brought Ginny here this week. He knew the two weren't really dating, let alone engaged, so he wondered what their agenda might be. What did those two want with each other, and what did they want from all of the rest of them?

It was a question he wouldn't be able to answer tonight. Tonight, he merely wanted to go down to the kitchen, get a tall firewhiskey (or some milk) and a snack. Then, he'd head back up to his room so he could settle down for some peaceful dreams… dreams filled with a woman who wore glasses on top of her dark, beautiful hair, and who was slight, feminine and too sophisticated for a man like him.

Just as Harry reached the bottom step, he heard a noise. The house was mostly dark, so he couldn't judge from where the mews came, but a he bent his head, closed his eyes, and listened closer. It was the sound of a woman crying…

.

_**Hermione**_ paced back and forth in the guest bedroom in which she was to sleep alone – Roger had decided he needed his own room, thankfully – and continued to ponder a single, simple truth: She didn't love her fiancé nor did she want to marry him. Now she had to find a way to tell Roger, especially as she had already told Draco Malfoy!

Furthermore, Draco Malfoy, a man whom she once detested with all of her might, made a bold statement earlier that still had her mind reeling. He claimed he wanted her, although for the life of her she wasn't sure she believed him. How could a man suddenly claim that he wanted to marry a woman he hadn't seen for years? He didn't love her – he couldn't love her – because no one loved someone they hardly knew.

So how could he all of a sudden decide he wanted to marry her?

Did he make his decision solely based on their kisses or was it something else?

The kiss earlier was nice, as was the one that they shared together on the walk back to the house tonight...

.

_**Draco **_leaned against the railing of the balcony off his room and stared out toward the treetops. The sky was so clear tonight and the moon shined brightly. He could see everything clearly, not just the trees and gardens of the house, but what he had to do. He had to spend some time alone with Hermione this week to convince her that they belonged together. He tried to do that with his second kiss earlier, but they were interrupted.

Still, it was a lovely kiss – much nicer than their first. He closed his eyes to remember it. He had just placed his mouth down on hers, she opened her lips to welcome him, and her hands came up to his neck, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape. He felt a surge of power and passion, crushing his mouth down on hers. Cupping her face with his hands, he pulled her even closer, away from the house, into the confines of the trees near the sidewalk.

He enjoyed kissing. He especially enjoyed kissing her. He longed to do more than kiss her. When he was kissing Hermione Granger, for the second time tonight, he stopped for only a moment to point that fact out to her. "I'm kissing you, damn it, and I can't stop." He felt delirious, wild with want, and reached for her again.

She moved her hands to his chest to push him away, looking dazed, as if she were slightly drunk on the shared passion that was pulsing between them. Before she could protest and run away, another couple came up the path. That was when Draco pivoted, Hermione in his arms, to shield her from the couple walking up the path. When he turned them around he saw something shocking!

Illuminated by the soft light of the moon, another couple was kissing by the back door and they seemed to be enjoying it very much. Draco didn't want Hermione to see them – not yet, so he swirled them both around again, grabbing her hand to pull her toward another entrance of the massive house. However, when he turned back to her he saw that she had tears in her eyes. Why? Did she see the other couple kissing or was she upset that he had kissed her? Before he could investigate, she pulled her hand from his and soon she was gone…

.

**Harry **walked down the long hallway of the first floor, past the two-story foyer, past the parlor and large dining room. Stopping right in front of the library door he heard it again – a tiny little wail, more like a sob – so he opened the door and peeked inside.

Sitting in a rocking chair, moving slowly back and forth to comfort herself, sat a teary-eyed Rose Weasley. Without a word, he walked swiftly into the room, leaving the door ajar, crossed over to her, dropped down to his haunches and asked, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

His goddaughter looked up at him with weary eyes, exhausted red from tears, and she gulped before answering. "Nothing, Uncle Harry. I'm fine, really. It's late, shouldn't you be in bed?"

He chuckled, pulled her to her feet even as he stood, and moved her to sit next to him on a small settee in the corner of the room. "I should be chastising you, Rose, not the other way around. It's late, so why are you still up? Most of all, why are you crying?"

"I'm too embarrassed to say," she whispered so softly he had to strain to listen.

Pulling her closer, he placed an arm around her shoulders. "That's alright; you don't have to tell me. But, if something's wrong, Rose, you can confide in me. I can keep secrets, I promise." He came to the heart wrenching realization that he would go through fire for this girl, and she wasn't even his own daughter. "Did someone hurt you? Shall I kill them for you?"

She looked up at him and smiled, relaxing against his chest. "I don't need you to kill anyone." Her smile remained as she wiped her tear stained cheeks with her hands. "I think I need to sort this one out for myself, but thank you, Uncle Harry. I'm just feeling confused about relationships and stuff."

"I'm a relationship expert," Harry boasted sarcastically, drawling another small laugh (between the sobs) from his only goddaughter. "Tell me."

Keeping her head tucked into his chest, she said, "I'm trying to sort out why a man would kiss a woman whom he once claimed to hate, that's all." Then she began to cry again…

.

_**Hermione**_ plopped down in a chair by the bed and began to undress slowly. She needed to exam everything more closely. She had just removed most of her clothing when there was a knock upon the doors that led from the balcony. Wondering who it could be, she frowned, hurriedly placed a robe over her bra and knickers, and went to investigate…

.

_**Draco **_was still on the balcony outside his and Granger's doors, plotting how he could spend time alone with her this week. It didn't help things that she had run away from his kiss. It also didn't help that she was here with her fiancé. The thought of that man touching her made bile rise in his throat. Everything would be so much easier if Davies suddenly disappeared. Perhaps Draco could bribe the man to leave. On the other hand, he could feed the newspaperman some juicy gossip, and then he'd have to go back to London to investigate the story!

The problem was that the only interesting gossip Malfoy had on anyone at this moment was on his 'fake' fiancée, and he wasn't certain he wanted to gain her ire just yet. She might prove beneficial to him later in the week. Of course, he could tell the man what he spied by the back door earlier…

.

**Scorpius** was just coming back from the kitchen with a midnight snack when he saw Rose's mum, Susan Bones, standing outside the Library. She seemed to be listening at the doorway. He remained in the dark hallway and watched as the woman moved away from the door to walk across to the dining room. Once she was inside the dining room, Scorpius scampered to her abandoned spot to explore why she was eavesdropping by the open doorway…

.

**Draco** was grateful that he didn't have to share a bedroom with Ginny Weasley! Astoria put Draco in the bedroom he always used when he visited here, which just happened to be next door to the bedroom Hermione Granger was in right now. Walking back into his room, Draco smiled ruefully as he tore off his shirt and trousers. He was pleased that Astoria put the little lion in the room next door, and pleased even more when he heard that Roger Davies asked for a room of his own. Draco laughed aloud. Davies was making this too easy for him. He wouldn't be surprised if he had Hermione Granger in the palm of his hand, and underneath him on his bed, before the week was through.

Even he wasn't sure why he ached so for the former Gryffindor princess. He was truthful to her when he said he came here this week to find a wife. And in the back of his mind he had already picked her from the lot before he arrived, but the memory of her sweet lips upon his and the bright, achingly vulnerable look in her face when he retreated sealed the deal in his opinion.

She already admitted that her engagement was a mistake; therefore, she should be willing to accept all that Draco had to offer. Shaking his head humbly he laughed at his own cocky assurance. What was he thinking? This was Hermione Granger. She wasn't about to make anything easy.

Perhaps he should tell her goodnight. He might even give her another kiss – just to remind him of their shared passion. Putting on a robe over his boxers, he went to do just that…

.

_**Harry **_urged Rose's chin up with his right hand. "Who are we discussing, Rose? Did someone kiss you earlier? Was it Scorpius? Was it unwanted?" He had visions of tearing the young man apart into a million pieces when the door to the library urged open…

.

_**Susan Bones**_ couldn't sleep. She went to bed before everyone else, but still, she couldn't sleep. Damn that Harry Potter. He had her so befuddled that she couldn't even concentrate on Shakespeare! Why did he insist on staring at her? What did he want? Growling in frustration, she picked up her book of Shakespeare sonnets and headed down to the Library. Iambic pentameter always cleared her brain.

Slipping down the stairs, past the foyer, she started walking along the hall to the Library when she heard the hushed tones of the man who was causing her confusion. Straining to listen closer, she heard a voice, speaking sotto voce, in the room with him. Since the door wasn't closed properly she felt compelled to spy inside the room. What she saw there gave her pause. Turning on her heels, she rushed toward the dining room instead…

.

_**Scorpius**_ opened the door to the library slowly. He heard someone crying, figured it was Rose, and came inside to find her. At first, he wanted to find her to torment and tease her, but staring up at her red, watery eyes and her pink-tinged cheeks, he felt contrite about his original plans. For some reason, now he wanted to comfort her, but she had her godfather for that task, didn't she?

She was so different than he always assumed. She was softer, sweeter, and more beautiful, but she still challenged him and confused him more than a puzzle missing half its pieces. "Excuse me; I didn't know anyone was down here." He was lying, but of course, but what else should he say?

"Scorpius, it's fine, I'm just heading for the kitchen," Harry said, dropping his goddaughter's hands from his. "Perhaps you could escort Rose up to her room. It's late, and I know Astoria and Ron have a lot planned for tomorrow." Turning to Rose he added, "Don't worry about what you told me. It will sort itself out, I promise."

She nodded, mutely mouthed the words, "Thank you," to him, and then walked toward the door. To Scorpius she mumbled, "You don't have to escort me to my room as if I'm a child. I can get up to the third floor by myself."

The teenagers started walking to the stairs. "I know you can," Scorpius said with a frown. They walked up the first flight of stairs silently, with her taking almost two steps to his every one just to keep up, when Scorpius stopped at the second floor landing. "What I don't know is why you were crying. You don't look like the emotional type."

Rose turned toward him with a scowl. "I don't know what you mean by that stupid statement!" Pushing him as hard as she could, even though he barely moved, she shrilled, "And you know why I was crying, or maybe you don't! Maybe that kiss meant nothing to you, but it did to me!" Then she ran up the last flight of stairs as quick as she could…

.

_**Harry Potter**_ walked from the kitchen into the dining room and found the woman who was occupying his every thought busy scribbling away on a piece of parchment in front of her. Susan didn't even seem to realize that Harry had entered the room, or at least he assumed so, until she said, "Either come and sit down at the table so you can finish eating or go somewhere else, Harry."

Harry placed the plate with fruit and a sandwich that he was holding on the table beside all her books and he sat down. In his other hand was a glass of milk.

She looked up. "Milk? I would think you'd drink something else besides milk. I even see a piece of fruit on that plate. Who knew you ate healthy?"

"There's much about me you don't know, Susan Bones," he chided, cutting off a slice of pear with his knife. Offering her some by placing it under her nose, she reached out and took it. Their fingers touched and she drew her hand (with fruit) away from him as quickly as she could.

"I know you're a compassionate man, because were kind to my daughter a moment ago. I saw you together in the library." She closed the book and pushed the parchment toward the middle of the table. "I was going to work in there, but then I saw you and her talking through the partially opened door. Did she tell you why she was crying?"

Harry nodded.

"Will you tell me?"

Harry shook his head no.

She said, "That's not the answer I wanted, Harry Potter."

"Well, history has taught me that we don't all get what we want, Susan Bones." Reaching toward her with another slice of pear, he waited to hear her response to that…

.

And while all these incomplete conversations and minor productions were going on around the dark house, another couple was in the midst of a giant row…

* * *

_A/N - I'm a bit worried. I got a PM from a person today (and I'm not giving them any power by giving out their name) but I have every reason to believe this person is going to report my stories for violating the new rating warnings. I didn't message them back, and if they want to report me they can, and at least my stories will still be on Granger Enchanted, and this new one, and other new ones to come, will be on The Maple Bookshelf. I'll try to keep everyone informed. If my M rated stories get deleted, I'll update my non-M with a message letting everyone know, then I'll delete my account. This is so stupid! My stories aren't even that explicit. Geesh...such drama. Why can't people leave other people alone?_

_I really just want to write for the enjoyment of it, but sometimes we don't get what we want, do we?_


	5. Chapter 5

_**WARNING: I'm sorry to say that I won't be finishing this, or any other story, for this site. **__**This will be the very last chapter I will ever post on this site due to PM messages and reviews left to me of the following caliber. I do not deserves messages like this, (or PM messages or emails saying that I will be reported for violating rules) nor do I have to be subjected to messages like the one I received for chapter four of this story, which I will post below. I'm so sorry to disappoint anyone, and I thank all of the lovely people who have been wonderful to me over the past five years. You have all overshadowed the dark, evil people, but seriously, I don't want to hurt anyone with my writing. I only want to do it for enjoyment... and I get no enjoyment out of being told I'm a sick person. Below is a copy of a review left for this story...**_

* * *

_**(Copy and pasted)**_

_**From: HermioneRulestheWorld ( www . fanfiction u / 4068058 / )  
Reply URL: login . fanfiction pm 2 / post . php ? rwid = 151779327**_

Are you really that dumb? The Mature ratings rules are NOT NEW! They've been  
the rules since the site started! Just because you're too illiterate to read  
the guidelines doesn't mean these are new rules. It's really sick how people  
like you are posting R rated content for a site that was created for kids as  
young as 10! Get some help! If you want to write smut, post on a smut site,  
sicko! I bet you read ** to your kids too. If you even have any, you seem more  
like a spinster cat lady who has nothing better to do than to look for  
validation from the internet by writing characters created for children in  
sexual situations. What a sick freak you are!

* * *

_**I will be continuing this story on the new site 'the maple bookshelf'. You may find the link on my account page. Thank you all so much!**_

* * *

_**All characters belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story. Thank you.**_

**Chapter 5 – The one where everyone should be in bed, but aren't… yet**

_The expense of spirit in a waste of shame,_

_Is lust in action, and till action, lust,_

_Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,_

_Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,_

_Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,_

_Past reasoned hunted, and no sooner had,_

_Past reasoned hated as a swallowed bait,_

_On purpose laid to make the taker mad,_

_Mad in pursuit and possession so, _

_Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme,_

_A bliss in proof, and prove, a very woe,_

_Before, a joy proposed, behind a dream._

_All this a world well knows, yet none knows well,_

_To shun the Heaven that leads men to this Hell._

_Shakespeare, Sonnet 129_

Rose ran away from Scorpius, nonetheless, she wasn't quick enough. He caught up with her right when she started down the long, narrow third floor hallway to her guestroom at the end of the hall. Although he didn't need to follow her – seeing how his room was at the top of the stairs on this same floor – follow her he did.

Rose opened the door to her room and started to step through, but Scorpius grabbed the door handle and kept her from slamming the door right in his face.

There they stood, face to face, outside Rose Weasley's new bedroom. Neither of them really wanted to talk about what they had seen earlier, but seeing as she had been crying about it, Scorpius sensed that she needed to talk to someone, and that someone might as well be him.

He wasn't particularly good with girls. Sure, he was rich and smart and crazy handsome, but he tended to keep girls at arm's length. For one thing, he didn't really understand them. For another, besides snogging one occasionally, he wasn't sure what they were good for… because they weren't good at Quidditch, they didn't like to ride fast on their brooms, they didn't get his sense of humour, and they weren't very interesting.

However, Rose was different, wasn't she? He had thought that earlier at the gazebo and later, once again, when she decided to play Wizard Polo with them, even though she was afraid of the broom. She laughed and joked with her father and Harry Potter when she fell off the blasted thing twice. That was when he expected her to cry! But she didn't! She laughed, got back up on it, and tried again.

Later, she challenged Marcus Flint on a shoddy move he made, called Scorpius' father a cheater (even though she was on his father's team) and won both Slytherins' respect when she made the winning point.

After the game she walked up to Scorpius while basking in the glory of a splendid win, with her hand held out, a smile on her lips, and told him that he played wonderfully – which of course he did. That earned her a smile in return from the sulking teen who expected to win since he was on Harry Potter's team. While she was shaking his hand, she said in a low murmur, "We've found something else in which I'm better than you, Wizard Polo."

Then she laughed outright and ran toward the back of the large house.

Scorpius stared after her, watching as her ginger curls danced in the low dim of a bright new moon, and he smiled wider. Let her think she was better than he was at some made up sport… just as she was better than him in school. He would get her back later.

Running to catch up with her, he tugged on her sleeve and pulled her around the backside of the large mansion. Fully intending to either castigate her for her cheek, or snog her senseless, he opened his mouth, but no words escaped.

Because she had stopped smiling, stopped running, and had stopped laughing. She was staring at something in front of her. Scorpius turned around quickly to see what it was that held her attention at bay and his mouth flew open in shock!

Right in front of them, by a servant's entrance to the house, stood HER father kissing a woman that certainly wasn't HIS mother.

Scorpius grinned and then turned to her, one finger up to his mouth to make certain she remained quiet. He was about to suggest that they hunker down behind the bushes and continue to watch the show, figuring that she would be as happy with the outcome of her father's infidelity as Scorpius was, when he saw that she had a horrorstruck expression on her face.

Whispering, "This is great, Weasley! Don't you see? We tell my mother about this, and she'll throw the arsehole to the curb! The wedding will be off! We won't have to be step-siblings and this farce of an engagement will be at an end."

Apparently, Rose Weasley didn't share Scorpius Malfoy's feelings on the subject, because she turned away from him and ran back around the front side of the house. Scorpius turned around, only to find that Rose's father and the woman (who wasn't Scorpius' mother) were no longer there.

Hours later, standing in her bedroom doorway, his face grew hot and his palms sweaty as he recalled the incident. She was upset by what they had seen, while he had been elated. "I'm sorry if you were upset by what we saw earlier, you know, your dad and…."

She placed a cold hand on his arm. "I beg you not to mention that evil woman's name! She came here tonight, acting as if she cared for someone else and then she kissed my father!"

Shrugging, Scorpius said, "One could argue that your father was kissing her, too."

"I know. That's what hurts the most. How could he do such a thing? You know that's why my mother and him divorced, right?"

No, he didn't know that. Why would he know such a thing? "Your parents divorced because your dad had an affair with Pansy Parkinson?"

Her face burned in embarrassment. Rose Weasley was suddenly aware that she shouldn't be HERE with him in the middle of the night. This was her father's fiancée's son. He was also someone who hated Rose. Oh… and he was a boy.

A boy whom she had always liked, even though she didn't want to admit it up until now. She knew her cheeks were burning hot. She placed her palms on them and answered, "That's none of your business, and I'm tired. Goodnight, Scorpius."

Moving into her room, she tried to shut the door in his face, but he stopped it gently with the palm of his hand. There was so much tension in the air it was almost visible. He loved the gentle blush of her cheeks, the round rosebud lips of her mouth, and the slight uncertain gaze she rendered as she tried to give him the brush off, knowing full well that she didn't mean it.

"Did you hear me, Malfoy?" she asked in a voice that sounded oddly husky and quiet.

"Sure, goodnight, Rose Weasley," he conceded. "But truth be known, if you want to talk about anything, your dad, your mum, anything at all, I swear I'll listen. I understand, because my parents divorced because my mum cheated on my dad. And you know the reason I wasn't happy at what we saw wasn't that I don't like you or anything, right? That's not the reason. You know that, right?"

She offered him a small, but bright smile, and then his heart lurched as she leaned toward him. His breath caught just before she placed a hand on one of his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes to place a small, but chaste kiss, on his left cheek. "Thank you. I'll keep that under consideration. Goodnight," she said softly.

She slipped inside and for the third time started to close the door, but he reached out for her hand. Taking a cue from his father, he brought the young woman's hand up to his mouth, gave her his best smile, and then kissed the top of her hand lightly. And he realized that his old man might be on to something special, because the look she gave him caused his heart to stop beating. "Goodnight."

She disappeared in her bedroom and Scorpius stood outside in the hallway perplexed and confused about some things, but clear on one important fact: he didn't want this girl for a stepsister! He wanted this girl to be his for the rest of his life. That bone jarring fact made him shiver as he turned to walk down the hallway to his own room.

.

Down in the dining room the only sounds that could be heard were the scratching of a quill against parchment, a ticketing clock on the mantel, and paper in a book falling in place as someone leafed through its pages.

Susan wrote furiously on the parchment, frustrated that Harry hadn't revealed to her why her daughter was crying. An antique clock revealed it was well after one in the morning as it ticked evenly on the mantel above the fireplace and Harry Potter leafed idly through Susan Bone's book of Shakespeare sonnets, waiting for a sign from the woman that she noticed he was alive.

Looking up from her writing, Susan finally said, "If you won't tell me why Rose was crying, and you're done with your snack, you should leave my book alone go to bed. It's late."

Harry laughed. "The clock on the mantel would refute that claim. It says it's early. More like one in the morning." He closed the book in front of him. "May I ask you a question, Susan?"

She shrugged and went back to her writing.

"Why don't you like me?"

She dropped her quill and brought her gaze up slowly to look at him, a shocked expression on her face. "Why would you ask such a thing, Harry Potter?"

"Never mind, it's late, or early, or whatever. I'm tired. Goodnight." He stood to leave, but sat back down. "It's only that you seem as if you can't stand the sight of me, and I was wondering what I've done to deserve your wrath. You've always seem to be angry with me, or not to like me, and I why."

"Right now or usually?" she asked seriously.

That statement surprised him. "I can't handle much right now, so let's start with this moment. Why don't you like me right now?"

She sat back in her seat, placed her quill down with a steady hand and asked, "Why did you bring that woman with you here this week? You're not really dating her, are you?"

"What does one thing have to do with the other?" His eyebrows creased together as he searched his own brain for the answer to that question even as he asked it aloud.

"Harry Potter, for a smart man, you can be terribly obtuse," she murmured, reaching for her book of sonnets.

He reached it faster, and pulled it away from her. "Tell me why I'm obtuse." He was smiling at her, although he didn't find any of this amusing. Not in the least.

"You know that woman and Ron had an affair! You know that's why we divorced! Why would you bring her here? Did you want me to feel even MORE uncomfortable than I already felt this week?" She stood suddenly, her hands arcing out to the sides, and she knocked over an inkwell in the process, so that ink went all over the parchment in which she had been copying notes and sonnets.

Harry sat back in his chair, staggered and stunned by that statement. He hadn't thought of that. He had only brought Pansy with him because he had heard from Ron that Ginny was coming with Draco, he didn't want to come alone, and Pansy had seen him at the Ministry and had suggested that she would love to come with him since she wasn't invited. It was as simple as that. He did it so that he wouldn't look alone and pathetic in the eyes of Ginny Weasley… but he didn't even think about what Susan or Rose would think of the matter.

Before he could think of an adequate reply, if such a thing existed, she asked, "Are you in love with her?"

Now it was his turn to stand up. Holding his hands out, he said resounding, "Hold on, hold on, hold on. NO! We aren't even dating. I didn't want to come alone this weekend, because of Ginny. I knew she was coming with Malfoy, and Ron said she wanted me back, and I wanted to discourage her, so I invited Pansy. That's all."

"Without a thought to how my daughter or I would feel about it?" she begged.

"Ah, sweetheart," Harry mumbled, pulling out his wand to clean up the ink from the table. "I did it without a thought to you or Rose, because I can sometimes be a thoughtless git, and for that, I apologize. I didn't mean to be insensitive, although in hindsight, I can see why you would think that. That explains why you hate me tonight." Plopping back down in his chair he asked, "Why do you hate me all the rest of the days of the year?"

Frowning with her whole, adorable face, she said, "I don't hate you, Mr. Potter. Now, I'm tired, and I must go to bed. All my work here tonight is ruined anyway. I'll start again tomorrow night."

Picking up her books and things and hugging them to her chest, she started past him, when he stopped her by asking, "Do you mind if I help you tomorrow night? I feel as if your ruined work is somehow my fault."

She stopped cold in the threshold of the doorway. Without turning around to look at him she merely said, "Same time tomorrow night, Mr. Potter. Bring your own quill," and then she walked away, head held high.

Harry couldn't help but to smile as he left the room, planning what was going to say tomorrow night while he helped Susan copy Shakespeare sonnets. Then he laughed silently at absurdity of such an observation.

He was a smitten fool.

.

Hermione Granger, clad in only a dressing gown, bra and knickers, heard knocking on the balcony door of her guest bedroom door. Standing from the chair, she wondered who it was, even as she told herself _she knew _who it was – it had to be Draco Malfoy.

Pulling the door inward slowly, but not opening it fully, she peered out into the darkness and spied the very man whom she knew would be upon her threshold. "Little lion," he said smoothly. "Couldn't sleep?"

"You knocked upon my door, Draco," she reminded him, clutching the material at her dressing gown tighter. Then she frowned.

He didn't like it when she frowned. "Why did you run away from me earlier?" There. That was what he really wanted to know. He leaned his body easily against the outside wall and stared up at the moon, exacting a pose of a man whom could care less if she answered or not. However, he wanted her to answer, so he turned his stare back to her lovely face.

He heard her sigh, and then she joined him on the dark balcony in only a dressing gown. Interesting. "Draco, it's late and I'm getting ready for bed. Can we discuss this tomorrow?"

He walked over to the balcony's railing, leaned against it and said, "I'd like to discuss it now and as to your state of dress, don't worry about it. I'm wearing only a robe, also. We match."

She walked closer. "Are you naked under there?"

That question – coming from her – seemed to shock them both. She put both hands to her mouth and laughed. He threw his head back and did the same. "You randy little lion! No, I have my boxers on, but I can remedy that in a moment's notice, if you'd like. Are you naked under yours?"

Still smiling, she lowered her hands and joked, "I have my boxers on as well, and I think we should keep it that way, thank you very much, Draco Malfoy."

Joining him at the railing, she placed both hands on the top and arched her back slightly, leaning her head back and she closed her eyes. Her long, curly hair hung down her back in waves and shone like honey in the moonlight. Draco made a small movement toward her, but sensing his movement, she opened her eyes and moved away.

Clenching his hands into fists, he repeated his question, "Why did you run away when I was kissing you the second time?"

"Ron was kissing Pansy," she said, as if that was an answer. She placed her back against the wall near her door.

Walking up to her, he tried to make out every little nuance of her face in the ever-darkening sky. "And how does that concern us?"

"He's marrying Astoria," she whispered.

"Again, how does that concern us?" He leaned closer to her, placing one shoulder against the doorjamb.

He could see a worried expression on her face as she swallowed hard. She was trying to tell him something, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what that was. "Do all men cheat?" she asked.

"Probably," he answered, bringing his hand up to run it down her silk-covered arm.

"Did you cheat with Astoria?" She looked up at him with coffee coloured eyes.

He made a sort of low chuckle in the back of his throat. "No, the witch cheated on me. I know, I know, hard to believe."

Hermione's gaze went up to the starless, night sky. "I'm truly sorry about that, Draco. Ron cheated on Susan. That's why they divorced." Then she turned her eyes back to him. "He cheated on me, too. It's why we didn't last."

"Ron Weasley's an arse," he said, leaning toward her, whispering into her ear.

She started, her breath catching, not realizing he was so close. Draco ran a long finger down her cheek, to her chin, down her neck to her open collar of her robe. It lingered right above her heartbeat. Her breathing was becoming more ragged and heavier; his finger was moving back and forth across her chest, to her collarbone, and back down to dip in her cleavage, then back up again. She looked down, to watch, and then she looked back up and saw that he was watching her face.

"Did you like kissing me earlier, my brave lion?" he asked, in a somewhat deeper voice than before.

She grabbed his wrist and removed his hand from the open collar of her robe. "I liked it too much, Draco. That's why I can't do it again until I tell Roger that our engagement is over. I'll tell him tomorrow. I won't cheat on him, the way everyone has cheated on me. I won't do that to him. Please."

Draco stepped backwards, removing his wrist from her grasp, shocked at the sincerity and passion in her request, and by the word, 'Please'. "Tell him it's over tomorrow, Granger, or be prepared to change your morals, because I will have you." He turned and stalked away, hard with want, and more than a bit confused by the thought that he might be falling in love with the woman that he wanted to marry!


End file.
